


Mingled

by duesternis



Series: held by you [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Christmas Shopping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, these two gentle men take good care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: Harry, however, always wore a coat.As if the cold didn’t want to relinquish her hold on him.Henry walked closer to him, hoping to lend warmth.
Relationships: Henry Collins/Harry D. S. Goodsir
Series: held by you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800478
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	Mingled

Henry stood quite frozen outside the shop, eyes glued to the bustle of Edinburgh, unable to blink and move and do anything, really.  
He tried to recall the last letter from his brother, but nothing came to mind except black spidery lines on cream paper.  
There had been something important in the letter; Henry knew.  
Something he had been happy about, something he had showed to Harry and Harry had clapped his hands and said "Oh! How wonderful!"  
And now it was as if the letter had never arrived at all.

People pushed past him, a woman tossed an apology over the fur-collar of her coat and he swayed where he stood. He could only see the swirl of black on cream, swallowed by the ice-blue of the coat.  
Henry sucked in a breath, the air so cold and dry and thin. He couldn’t breathe, he was drowning on dry land.

There was a rustle then, of paper or pages, by his feet and then two warm, calloused hands cupped his face.  
Felt the thundering pulse at his collar.  
Opened the two top buttons and tugged the cotton away from Henry’s throat.  
Then the two hands steadily held his shoulders and two dark eyes blinked up at him from a bent head.

"Oh," Henry said and gripped the be-coated elbows of Harry quite tightly.  
"Ah, there you are, Mr Collins. Slowly now, gently with yourself."  
That endlessly kind, unwavering smile and the two hands squeezed Henry into a safer mold.  
He inhaled shakily for a moment, then steadied, hands loosening their death grip on Harry.  
"That... Sorry about that, Doctor."  
"Nonsense, nonsense, Mr Collins. Now, let’s get you home safe and then we can talk, if you want to."  
Harry bent over, picking up the brown bundle of wrapping paper and string. Henry tossed a glance at the shop.  
Books. Of course.

"Let me," he mumbled and relieved Harry of the hefty package.  
"Thank you, dear man." Harry squeezed his arm and then hooked his hand into the crook of Henry’s elbow, providing a simple contact.  
A lifeline.  
Henry breathed easier for it.  
Together they navigated the thick throngs of people, the streets heavily filled with holiday shoppers.  
Two weeks to Christmas and Henry had quite forgotten how to celebrate it; nevermind that it was the third Christmas safe home.  
A wind whistled through the streets and a young girl shrieked.  
Henry flinched and Harry tutted softly, pulling his muffler over his chin.

Edinburgh was cold today, if he judged by the amounts of fur-collars and hats pulled low over ears.   
Henry never needed a coat. Was content with a thick sweater and a muffler. Some mittens and maybe a hat, when it got really into the snowing.  
Harry, however, always wore a coat.  
As if the cold didn’t want to relinquish her hold on him.  
Henry walked closer to him, hoping to lend warmth, where Harry gave him stability in return.  
He cleared his throat and Harry’s fingers flexed against his arm.  
"They, ah. Had everything you wanted?"

"Almost. They’ll have the rest by the end of the week."  
Henry tensed at the idea of another stroll into the populated streets, so close to this outing.  
"I had them agree to send it home, though, the other package. It’s quite heavier than the one you have now, and I want to avoid the other shoppers, I find."  
Harry smiled ruefully and Henry nodded, agreeing profusely.  
If there were less people around, then surely it would leave him less harried also.  
The countryside, perhaps.  
But Harry loved the city so, and his family was here, his work.  
And so Henry avoided all but the quietest streets normally. Kept to house and yard and the privacy of their rooms.  
Christmas was Christmas, though, and there was a need to acquire presents.  
Quite impossible from the house.  
And with Harry at his side, the city scared him less.

Harry hung his coat and rubbed his hands and the maid was rushing into the entry hall, already complaining in her mild way, that they never let her take their coats.  
If she at least may take the package up into their rooms?  
Henry looked to Harry for guidance and found him equally at a loss.  
"It’s heavy, Clara," Henry said and carefully handed it over, making sure the young thing had a good grip on it.  
"I have it, Mr Collins, thank you. If you care to sit down in the drawing room, gentlemen, I’ll have tea for you shortly."  
Harry thanked her and rubbed his hands together again.  
Unthinking Henry took them in his own hands and bent low over them, blowing warm air against Harry’s cold skin.  
Clara was already on the stairs.

Harry still jerked and cleared his throat, stepping closer to Henry, trying to shield their hands from the stairs.  
"Mr Collins, let’s go sit down. You’re still shaking, dear man."  
Henry nodded, blew again and then let go of Harry. Smartly crossed the hall like a heaving deck and barged into the drawing room.  
There were dirty cups on the table and a fire blazing in the grate.  
But Harry’s brother or his wife or one of their children were nowhere to be seen.  
Only the cups and crumbs on a plate, a half finished child’s drawing.

Dread dripped down Henry’s spine, until he heard voices from upstairs.  
Then Harry calling something up to his brother from the hall, a laugh and Harry’s answer.  
Henry pulled his sweater over his head and folded it in half, before hanging it over the back of the sofa by the fire. His hair fell into his eyes and he shook his head to dislodge it.  
Harry stepped into the room and adjusted one of Henry’s braces over his back.

"Sit down, Mr Collins, please. Clara will have tea for us. That’ll make you feel better, hmmm?"  
Henry nodded and sat down, folded in on himself. His hands fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt.  
Harry gently stuck two lukewarm fingers under Henry’s collar, feeling the pulse. Still quick, but not quite as thundering as in the street.  
Henry knew the feeling of his blood rushing through his veins quite well by now.  
The sound of it.  
Harry’s fingers drew it to a heightened point of interest and Henry felt himself concentrate on it. Calm himself on the steady pressure, the point of almost cold against the sensitive skin of his neck.  
Harry’s other hand came to rest over his forehead, brushing Henry’s curls away from his face and feeling the temperature of his skin.

Clara brought tea, tidied the dirty cups away and closed the door on her way out.  
Much to Henry’s shame everyone in the house knew his states by now.  
The mindless, heedless panic that sometimes chased him out of his bed, out of rooms, out of the house.  
Into Harry’s arms.  
Nervousness and shaking and the constant replacement of shattered tea cups: Henry’s companions for the last three years.  
Nightmares. Day scares.

And through it all the steadiness of Harry Goodsir by his side: Slight, small Harry with nerves of steel and sure, steady hands.  
Kindness for every childish fear and every tear.  
Henry sighed, leaned against Harry’s middle. The cool hand against his pulse slid around to cup the back of his neck, the hand on his forehead cradled his temple now, fingers stroking his hair.  
He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of soap from Harry’s waistcoat.  
Freshly laundered. His watch chain pressed into Henry’s cheek, but he wouldn’t move for the Queen.  
"Thank you."  
Harry rubbed his thumb over the knob of bone at the base of Henry’s spine. Henry's heart thudded leisurely in his chest now.  
"Don’t mention it, dear man."  
Harry bent over and pressed a kiss to Henry’s crown.

Henry closed his eyes tighter and a single tear crawled down his nose. Dripped on his trousers and Henry swallowed.  
He opened his eyes and gently took one of Harry’s hands.  
Turned it palm up and then carefully pushed the cuff of his shirt, the hem of his jacket away from the pale skin of his wrist.  
Delicate and white, veins blue and bright.  
Henry kissed it, cradling the hand against his cheek.  
He looked up at Harry and Harry looked back at him, cheeks quite flushed.  
Devastatingly alive.  
Not for the first time in the last three years, but perhaps for the first time truely believing it, Henry thought quietly to himself:

All well.

**Author's Note:**

> hooo boy. love these lads to pieces. Come and find me on tumblr under the same handle.  
> Also: leave a comment if you read this


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